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Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. ” “All right! And I never dreamed anything of the sort was going on. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. The woollen-draper looked at his watch.
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